Page 5 of Key Change

So before. The Saturday night before his life fell apart? He didn’t want to relive that either.

Focus on his lips and the music.

It wasn’t anything popular. Hayden was trying too hard and playing something classical. Typical. How would anyone be able to dance? There’d be no nude swimming in the pool later as everyone put on their best faces, even if they were doing linesoff the marble counter in the bathroom. Classical music did that. Hire a DJ though, and things got interesting.

He wasn’t ready for that kind of party. Did people remember the ones he’d once thrown, or was he well and truly forgotten?

While he wasn’t looking at the people around him, he felt their attention. They were watching him, but some of the hostility stirred up by Hayden’s behavior toward him was fading because of Cillian walking next to him—which meant Cillian was liked. Anthony had always been good at reading a crowd, and prison had honed that skill. But instead of being the center of attention, he’d learned how to be invisible, and when to get the hell out.

If Cillian dragged him around the room to meet all his friends, Anthony was bailing. Hayden didn’t want him here, and he didn’t want to be here, so this was polite torture until it was acceptable to leave. He’d never left a party early before, and the parties didn’t end until he left. Or, at least, that was how it had been.

Anthony needed to keep it together, and let people watch and try to figure him out. He needed to at least appear as if he was enjoying tonight. He needed to look like a success, even if he wasn’t. Appearance was half of everything until there was proof to the contrary.

Hayden watched them with disgust smeared over his face. His lip curled in a barely hidden sneer. If Hayden hadn’t been expecting Anthony to be at the party, he couldn’t have arranged for Cillian to attend and befriend him. Not only that, but Hayden hadn’t sent Cillian over, Cillian had already been crossing the room.

Something wasn’t adding up. Anthony was so used to expecting the worst from people, that he’d lumped Cillian with his brother—and very few people deserved that. As much as heliked the idea of having Cillian on his arm for the party, to act as a shield and distraction, it wasn’t fair for him.

“Being seen with me won’t be good for your social standing,” Anthony said in a low voice.

“You’re fresh meat and everyone has a different story about you.” Cillian’s gaze flicked up at him. He didn’t hide the heat in his gaze. “Besides, it’s always more fun to have a man on my arm at these kinds of things. Someone to talk to instead of the potted plants. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I don’t think my conversation skills are much better than the plant.” Sitting in the corner and being ignored sounded nice. The room was hot, and the people were loud. Their fake laughter cut through him, and he kept waiting for their mood to turn.

For them to turn on him.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

“Look pretty on my arm, and I’ll skate you through this. If we leave together, imagine the gossip.” Cillian said with what sounded like a practiced laugh.

He was joking, wasn’t he?

Anthony didn’t want to imagine the gossip, but he smiled and nodded as if they were having the most delightful conversation. Besides, this was the most delightful conversation he’d had, aside from the one two weeks ago when he’d been let out. That was still rating pretty highly and giving him a feel-good buzz.

“Everyone is wondering what you did,” Cillian murmured as he took a glass of wine from the passing waiter.

Anthony snagged one too, even though he didn’t want to drink. He’d had two beers to celebrate his release, and they’d gone straight to his head. He needed to stay alert tonight, but the glass was a nice prop to hold on to. “I’m surprised Hayden didn’t make banners detailing my crimes.”

Hayden suffered from a severe case of middle child syndrome and had felt ignored from the day of Anthony’s birth. They’d been in competition ever since.

Right now, Hayden was winning. For one, he had a house. Anthony had a room in his sister’s house where he was free-loading while he tried to glue his life back together. There wasn’t enough glue or pieces, and he didn’t know what to do next.

“Everyone has heard something different.” Cillian nodded at someone but didn’t lead them over. He wasn’t rude enough to ask.

Anthony was rude enough to make him. When had he become such an asshole? He could do better, be nicer. He turned so Cillian needed to look him in the eye. The silence between them reached awkward levels, but they both kept their smiles fixed in place. Anthony broke before Cillian. “You can ask.”

His brown eyes regarded Anthony as though he were a curiosity. He was. He didn’t belong in places like this anymore. The designer labels and diamonds, the pearls and PHDs.

Cillian sipped his drink and considered him for a moment longer. “What did you do before?”

That wasn’t what Cillian was supposed to ask. “Finance.”

Liam, Rafe, and he had been good at what they did, but that ease had become a temptation they couldn’t resist.

A waiter with a tray of nibbles paused next to them. Three kinds of morsels to choose from. Anthony hesitated with his hand out, and the waiter made a noise that suggested he should hurry up. He’d let his sister pick his shirt and tie for tonight. He hadn’t picked his clothes in a decade. Hadn’t made any choices, as they’d all been made for him by the prison routine. Unable to make such a simple decision, he picked up the same nibble as Cillian and hoped it was good.

“So what happened?” Cillian said before putting the food in his mouth.

Anthony hesitated, but at some point, he needed to talk about it, or the gossip would take on a life of its own. Better to own it and use it to his advantage. He didn’t know what that advantage was yet. “I did almost ten years for misusing investor funds, amongst other things.”

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